


Without Regret, I'd Offer Up My Life

by SpectralScathath



Category: RWBY
Genre: Because clearly what James needs in his life is more pain and suffering, Gen, an idea for how James and Fria know each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25745503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpectralScathath/pseuds/SpectralScathath
Summary: In the end, both James and Fria would place their duty to the world above all else. No matter the personal cost.or: Ironwood is the one to charge headfirst into Fria's storm.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 21





	Without Regret, I'd Offer Up My Life

James kept his pace as he left his office behind, leaving his Ace Operatives to keep team RWBY under control while he set off to oversee his plan. He pressed the button on the elevator doors, stepping inside as he ran through his options, trying to see clearly through the aftershocks of terror that still gripped him. 

He had a job to do. Lift Atlas into the sky, and protect every citizen that stood upon the city, from the Atlesian-born to the Mantle refugees. What were those children thinking, asking people who they’d just pulled from death’s jaws to dive back in to save a city that had already fallen?

He shoved it out of his mind. There wasn’t time to ponder the morality of actions, or the reasoning behind them. An excellent philosophical discussion to be had, he was sure, but right now was a time for action. 

The plan was almost damning in its simplicity. Winter would take the power of the Maiden, open the Vault, and they would create an Atlas that could survive far above Remnant, where not even the grimm would reach them. They could create an Atlas with sustainable supplies, air, and temperature, and with the magic of the staff, it would be child’s play.

All it would take was Fria’s life, and the lives of those who his army could not evacuate in time. He would keep them running the lines between Atlas and Mantle for as long as he could, but when the time came, they’d be recalled. 

There was no _ time _ , not with Salem on her way. He didn’t know how long they had. 

What mattered was keeping the relics from Salem’s grasp. No matter the cost. He’d bear the burden himself, and every bit of hatred lashed at him for it would be something he could accept. He’d die for Atlas. Living as a heartless monster would be easy in comparison. 

“Schnee, what’s the status of the Maiden?” Fria. It was harder to think about what was about to happen to her. He’d hoped she’d go peacefully, and Winter would be there so she didn’t go alone. 

Now they’d have to use the machine, and Fria would have to die with the feeling of her soul being ripped away from her and grafted onto Winter. The amount of pain they’d both be in, all on his command. 

Atlas could hate him for every order he gave. He’d join them.

He scowled when nothing came through his coms, touching them to try and clear up the signal. “Winter?” 

All he heard was feedback, and dread filled his veins. In Beacon, Cinder had followed Ozpin to Amber, and taken Fall for herself. 

The building shook, perfectly timed with the panic that punched him in the gut.

Danger. 

He went to help, because he couldn’t fathom doing anything else. He was missing a gun and an arm and his aura had only just begun to recharge itself, but he had passed his orders on. With or without him, Atlas could live. 

They just needed to keep the Winter mantle safe. 

The elevator was too slow as he took the stairs to the medical floor Fria was kept safe on, the entire building shaking a second time as he reached the flight just above. His coms crackled in his ear and Winter’s voice came through, tinny and frazzled, the connection damaged. 

_ “Sir, Fria’s activated her power!” _ The pain threading Winter’s words was audible even through the faulty earpiece.  _ “I can’t get to her!” _

Was this it? Was this Atlas’s fall? “Cinder?” He had to know if Fria’s life was on the line. 

_ “Escaped. Penny went after-”  _ the audio screeched so loud it hurt, Ironwood’s combat-honed instincts going haywire in that one moment as he ripped the earpiece out, accidentally crushing it between metal fingers. 

He ran through the wreckage of a medical floor, all the lights shorted out. He could see bodies and scorch marks everywhere, damaged pieces of robots sparking with electricity. His breath began to fog as he arrived at the end of a corridor, the hall lighting up with icy blue from whatever magic Fria had unleashed. 

He slowed his steps, one arm in a sling and the cold nipping at his bandages, his right hand drawing a gun that was almost emptied of bullets. The door to Fria’s room had been blown apart, replaced with a wall of solid ice. Inside Ironwood could see lights shifting back and forth, the storm inside raging with Fria at its heart. 

He backed up until his heel nearly touched the far wall, placing a shot in the ice as he charged it with his right shoulder, smashing his way into Fria’s vortex.

The cold nearly stopped him right then and there, ripping the air from his lungs as he felt the chill burrow in under his uniform and gnaw at his prosthetics, the metal carrying ice right into his body with ease. He gritted his teeth, stowing his gun in its holster as he tried to shield his face with his right arm, putting all his focus into each step. 

The winds alone threatened to blow him off his feet, ice nipping threateningly at his heels as his aura strained to keep him alive against winter’s might. Frost began to form on his metal wrist, his right leg beginning to creak ominously. 

He could barely see, his neural implant throbbing in his forehead from the chill it transmitted into his skull. Another step, the winds growing impossibly stronger for a moment before he entered the eye of the storm. Snow crunched under his boots as he looked up at Fria, blue flame burning from her eyes as she floated gently above the ground, staring into nothing. 

His heart caught in his throat as he feared that she wasn’t even in there, her power winning out against his soul as his aura burst off him into periwinkle lights, immediately stolen away by the wind. The cold was suddenly a living thing, driving white hot daggers into every part of him it could touch. The metal hewn to his body felt like death, carrying the chill straight into his core. 

_ Ah. _ So he did have a heart after all. He just felt it freeze over. 

It was only because his right knee joint had locked into place that he didn’t fall, ice creeping up around his boot as he buckled in place, every breath like knives dragging down his throat. He tried to reach for her, desperation all he had left now that willpower had failed him. “FRIA!”

The storm halted, every tiny snowflake caught in midair and crystallised there as the wind died, the air still as his breath came out in ragged pants of mist. Fria stared down at him, her eyes paled to ice by Maiden’s fire instead of a dark blue that matched the night sky. 

He stared back, a broken man, half-bandages and frozen metal, crushed by the weight of the world. He wondered if she remembered who he was, terrified of the probability that she didn’t. “Mom.” 

Fria gasped quietly, a soft intake of breath as the fire in her eyes fizzled out, clarity taking their place. “James.”

_ She recognised him. _ He let out a huff, only the remnants of his tattered composure keeping it from being a sob. She  _ knew _ him. “Are you okay?”

“I… had a job to do,” she murmured, her voice far away. He hoped she wasn’t slipping again. He could withstand everything the world could throw at him, but the thought of his own mother not knowing his face shattered him in a way he couldn’t bear. “I had a duty.”

Duty. That was something she’d instilled in him. “You did.” 

“I was meant to protect the power of the maiden, until I was ready.” She began to float down to the ground, all the snowflakes suspended in the air falling in one heap that covered his shoulders and hair. The air warmed enough for him to move his bionic joints, the metal parts whirring stiffly. Her sandals touched the ground and it was like all the strength her magic gave her was pulled away, leaving a frail waif behind. 

“You did great,” He tried to reassure her, catching her before she could fall and gently supporting her weight as he helped her sit down. He sat beside her, knowing he’d failed his own duties as a huntsman, and hoping that just this once he could try to be a good son. “You did. Really.”

The last time he’d visited her, she hadn’t known his face. 

That was the day he gave the order that Winter was the only one allowed to see Fria. He would have been a distraction, in the end. There couldn’t be a risk of her thinking of someone like him, or else the power would be lost. 

It would have been better for her to forget him entirely, perhaps. No matter how much it hurt.

Fria leaned against his right side, and he was shocked at how light she was. For all his life she had been an uncompromising solidness and a gentle warmth, the two bound together like binary stars. 

“I’ve been waiting for so long.” She sounded so tired and he wanted to fix it, fix everything, make a world where no one would have to feel tired or hurt or scared ever again. “I think that I’m ready now.”

He felt like he had been ripped from whatever anchored him to the world and sent spiralling into the void of space, like a piece of the shattered moon drifting off into the galaxy. His throat was tight, an uncomfortable scratching behind his eyes as he felt his stomach drop. “I’m not.” 

He didn't want to say goodbye. He wasn’t ready to let go yet. 

Fria blinked at him, exhaustion lining her features as some of the adamantine steel from his memories filled her eyes. “James. I know what will happen. I’ll be gone. I remember that much, at least.” 

He clenched his jaw, taking short sharp breaths as his chest began to heave. “I know. It’s your duty.” 

He was willing to do anything for the good of humanity, make whatever sacrifice of himself that was needed, but by the gods, not this. Please. Why did it have to be his mother? 

It wasn’t  _ fair, _ even though that was a child’s thought.

She smiled at him, comforting him even in her last moments of existence, and he’d never forgive himself for it. “You’re going to be okay.”

“I-” The edges of his vision blurred as his throat closed up, knowing how selfish he was with being here, when it should have been Winter. His own plan, a fragile thing built on trust, shattered by his own clumsy hand. 

“Winter. Please. She has to be the next Maiden. It has to be her. I can’t save you,” gods he fucking  _ wished _ , “but I can save others. I just- it has to be Winter.”

“Winter.” Fria sighed with a contented smile and the tiniest of nods, her breathing beginning to slow down to tiny wisps. “She’s such a nice girl.”

“Yes. She is.” James chuckled as warmth beaded in the corners of his eyes, his voice threatening to crack. 

Fria’s eyes slid shut as her head fell against his metal shoulder, hard and unyielding, her last breath rattling out of her like a final dagger sliding in under James’s ribs. White-blue light rippled over her like waves as her aura collected over her heart, the ball of light shooting off like a comet.

He could only hope that the magic reached Winter. All he could do was sit there as the barricades of sheet metal and stubbornness he’d built around his emotions broke open, leaving him to weep brokenly in the cold, Fria Ironwood sheltered in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> What if it’s true as they say, that I don’t have a heart, that I'm more a machine than a man? What would that change? Would it matter at all?
> 
> Anyway Hero's the best fucking song ever, the first lines of the bridge are a personal attack on me, and stan James Ironwood. This plot goblin wouldn't stop beating me over the head until I wrote it out and now I'm attached to this headcanon, whoops.


End file.
